


Murphy’s Law of War

by Fountain_pen



Series: The Murphy Series [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 15:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15537372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fountain_pen/pseuds/Fountain_pen
Summary: Don't be a hero. Go be a hero. From pre AOU to post IW. How Natasha and Bruce meet after Infinity War.





	Murphy’s Law of War

“Nat, do me a favour.” He’s not looking up from his interfaces but his hands are settled, no longer swiping through screens. She looks up from hers. It’s atypical for Bruce to ask for something, anything. She hums to indicate that she’s listening, a silent urge for him to continue.

“Stop being a hero.”

She blinks at that. She’s never seen herself as a hero. Evil rises when one stops doubting, sees absolute righntess in one self. She’s done too much for that.

Perhaps the sentiment is valid. After all he is a man who resists being a hero, resists being a monster. The vulnerable anti hero who strives to be human. The one who drowns in self doubt.

But the execution, putting her as the subject to that sentiment, let alone the deliberate attempt to tell her, is still a mystery. He lays it out like a surgery, like his stating a fact but somehow underlying it hints the bitterness of desperatness and hope. Sometimes diction reveals more than denotation, albeit it being vague.

She’s silent because she’s still missing something and he clearly has more to say, just needs time figuring how to voice it. He’s letting her see it, how his emotions unfold like a treasure map he’d long buried away, how he fumbles across it, occasionally getting lost but trying to navigate anyway. It’s their way of special treatment, trust and something more.

“Survive, live, run if you want.” He breathes out as if saying it pains him. _Oh._ This is not about monsters or men or superheroes. It’s a plea from Bruce to Natasha. To abandon the mission if need be. _Come back, no matter what._

It’s a blow. One she’s never encountered before, one she doesn’t, can’t have a scheme to outsmart or manipulate. A man who’s lost so much he’d forgotten how to take, pleads. And to be the reason of it. It’s a new weight on her chest. - on rare moments, in the oddest circumstances Bruce trusts her with this vulnerability. She’s foreign to it - It’s always been sharp and hard stuff she’d learned to destroy, nullify.

She has to swallow to moisten her throat that had gone dry without her noticing.

“That’s selfish.” She can’t simply cut loose and run. Her hands are bound to the blood of her past. Even if she’s more than what she was, she’s not something new.

“Maybe.” Like he’s accepting another theory for a written conclusion. Then, “Yes, be selfish.” He finally looks at her and he seems so earnest. He shrugs, tries to lighten the mood, “You can always blame me.” As if he doesn’t get enough blame for things he isn’t accountable for.

“I’m good at what I do.” _I won’t die._ She knows he’s not doubting her skills. She also knows that this is not the answer he wants. She can’t say yes and she can’t make herself say no.

On another night, when things go down to hell. She finds herself saying yes. Yes, to running. Yes, to as far as he wants. Yes, as long as he’s there. He finds himself saying no.

“Go be a hero.” The irony makes her laugh. Because no matter what Bruce views himself as, he is a hero. Because the man who told her that it’s okay to run, who made her want to run, makes her want to be a hero. She regrets not telling him that and so many other things. She gets to tell him: I adore you. And hopes that’s enough.

They find each other when half the world is gone, in a Wakandan rooftop. He knows the weight of her footsteps, light but compact. He knows she isn’t hiding either - he wouldn’t have known if she wanted to.

He took the L when she’d pushed him down the ledge, tasted betrayal, anger and.. realization. Because when he’d been busy running, being a selfish coward, she had strived through, exceeding expectations, and as always, being a hero. It’s not realization. It’s acceptance. He’d always known she was a hero.

Shame washes over him. Of all people, he should have known about involuntary change. To be made and unmade. To fight for the scrap of humanity. How she had been shaped unwillingly and unwittingly by evil hands. How she had withstood. How she is still withstanding them to become something she wants to be.

“I’m sorry.” He says when the footsteps are much closer, right behind him - her body heat warms him. “I tried to make you be something you aren’t.” It’s not enough, he knows.

“I’m sorry” she replies “I heard from Thor.” Not for doing her job but taking a part in his pain. He waves it away and she wonders if that’s how he’s learned to dismiss all the wrongs done to him.

His feet dangle on the edge of the Wakandan roof and she swoops down straddling his hips. His eyes go wide and she treasures how he wraps his hands around her to support her back, losely hugging her. His hands are warm against the cool night and it feels like a sob and so much like home she can get lost in it. But she needs to say this.

“Am I still a compelling reason?” He nuzzles against her neck twining his arms, closing the small space between their bodies. “Always” He whispers like a thunderstorm and she lets herself be immersed in it.

She brings her hands to the back of his head and instantly misses the longer curls, pulls on them to match his eyes to hers. She takes a moment to look in them, hoping her sincerity can be translated.

“Then stay, even if I die tomorrow. Even with the crippling fear of death, endure it. I can’t promise I’ll make it back but I’ll try. I’ll make it worth it. I’ll protect us.”

He lets out a chuckle and the soft rumble is a lullaby. He pulls her closer as if he can’t get enough, putting his forehead against hers.

“I asked you to be selfish.” His breath hot against her. He laughs. “This wasn’t how I meant it.” He sounds exasperated and affectionate.

“I strive for excellence.” It’s a misdirection, something to drive herself away from the thought that this may end bad. But she lets him see the fear play across her face, how she too feels fear. Sincerity doesn't always mean confidence and it's a feeling she’s not used to. They're still learning how to stop running. And he lets out a huff, again a swirl of exasperation and endearment.

“I adore you.” he says and dives in for a kiss, desperate and warm. She’s baffled by how long it took them. He takes a moment to breath and declares,

“Now, go be a hero.”

She laughs, rubs her cheeks against his. Yeah, they can do this.

**Author's Note:**

> Murphy's Law of War: Don't be a hero.


End file.
